


The Song They Created

by LydianNode



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Live Aid, Platonic Frian, just two soft boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: Freddie and Brian have a moment backstage before their Live Aid duet. (Prompt for Day 3 of Maycury Week.)"It's nice, this. Just a few minutes for the two of us." Freddie turned his warm eyes up to catch Brian's gaze. "We don't do it enough."Not since Munich, Brian didn't say, but he must have stiffened a little because Freddie reached up to tangle his fingers in Brian's hair.





	The Song They Created

13 July, 1985

Heat and sunset had done nothing to lessen the carnival atmosphere in the crowd, but behind the scenes many people were beginning to wilt. Free-flowing alcohol and too many backstage passes, never a good idea even for a small crew, had caused an overflow of tempers. 

Tempers and sex, Brian thought as he stepped over the slumped form of someone's "cousin" and the bottle of Jack Daniels tipping its amber liquid from the bottle falling from her lax fingers. She looked young, too young to have been part of this bacchanalia. The fatherly part of him wanted to cover her up, or phone her parents, or find some way to take care of her. 

"Jail bait AND unconscious, Bri, you know better." Of course it was Roger who had completely misconstrued the look on Brian's face. 

"Fuck off," Brian responded without any real malice. Roger had showered and changed into that hideous blue plaid shirt he loved beyond reason, and sunglasses hid his eyes. "It's dark out; you don't need the shades." 

Roger lowered the glasses to the end of his nose and waggled his eyebrows. "It's me, behind these Foster Grants." He hiccuped, covering his mouth with two fingers. "Oops. 'Scuse me." 

"You look like Fred when you do that." 

"Not the worst thing in the world." Roger rose on tiptoe, bumped his shoulder against Brian's arm, and grinned up at him. "He was fucking amazing today. Did you see the crowd during 'Radio Ga-Ga?' Every pair of hands in the place, every arm was up like...like a...like a field of wheat." 

"I was on stage with you, so, yeah, I saw." Roger's enthusiastic awe was infectious; Brian felt the silly grin spreading across his own face despite himself. "No one can work a crowd like our Freddie." 

Freddie had charmed Roger and Brian from the get-go. John had been stunned at first, then star-struck, and finally had succumbed to the same giddy state of being platonically-in-love that the other two felt. That Freddie had taken over the world seemed to be the logical progression. 

_"You bastards, you stole the show!"_ Elton had shouted, but really there was only one bastard who'd held the crowd in the palm of his hand. 

Brian was still grinning idiotically when John strode up a few seconds later. He glanced from Roger's tipsily-glowing face over to the girl who lay on the ground. "Is she one of yours, Rog?" 

"Jesus, Deak!" Roger shot John an offended glare over his glasses, but John was too busy draping a tablecloth over the sleeping form and waving two security guys over to take care of her. 

Brian was always impressed by John, even when he wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. "Good show—in more ways than one." He hoped his tone conveyed how earnestly he meant the words. 

"It was." John turned his attention to his band mates and smiled, fully, mirth making his stormy grey eyes crinkle at the corners. "We were really tight. Freddie was amazing—oh, by the way, he's changing for your encore and he wants you in the trailer."

In the hubub following their performance, Brian had nearly forgotten that he and Freddie were scheduled to do an encore. "Oh, yeah, we're Macca's warm-up act," he said in a self-deprecating tone that no one believed. He headed toward their trailer, stopping short when he realised that the other two weren't following. "Aren't you coming with?" 

John shook his head. "Freddie's a little...well, you'll see. Best if it's just the two of you. Ratty's put your acoustic in there already." 

"Hmm." Brian waved them away and walked quickly to the trailer. If Freddie were in a Mood, it would be best not to keep him waiting. 

Ironic, really. Brian shook his head, but fondly. 

He knocked twice then flung the door open. "Mercury residence?" he inquired with lifted eyebrows. 

"There you are!" Freddie had changed into white, loose-fitting clothes and looked relaxed for the first time in days. He was nursing a large cup of tea. "Is that what you're wearing?" 

Brian looked down at his jeans and the sleeveless white shirt. "Yeah...unless..." 

"Oh, it's fine, it's late in the show and no one will give a damn." He took a long sip of tea and made a face. "Lemon and honey are just a form of torture. I need a good shot of vodka." 

"How's your throat?" Brian asked as he picked up his guitar and started to check the tuning. 

Freddie let out an exaggerated sigh. "My voice was absolute rubbish. Cracks everywhere, like an old lady's makeup. Last fucking note, too." He fixed Brian with a keen-eyed stare. "And don't try and tell me you didn't notice." 

Well. So much for that. 

Still looking down at the strings, Brian shook his head and smiled. "Considering that your doctor told you not to sing—at ALL—I'm happy to give you a pass." 

"That's sweet, darling, but you're full of shit. We need to turn Roger's mic up from now on. His harmony singing doesn't get enough attention." 

"That's true, but even so..." Unable to think of even one more thing he could possibly do to his guitar, Brian set it carefully in its stand. "You're still amazing, Fred." 

"The rest of the bands obviously didn't put much thought into rehearsing," sniffed Freddie. "The only band that wasn't completely dire was, ironically, Dire Straits." 

They laughed for a few moments, then Freddie got up and sat down next to Brian, so close that their arms touched. "Elton's sounding great," Brian offered, nodding toward the speaker that was letting them hear the sound from the stage. 

"He's jealous that we stormed the stadium, but he'll get over it." Freddie laid his head on Brian's shoulder, slowly letting one arm snake around his waist to hold him closer. "We do put on a pretty decent show even in street clothes, don't you think?" 

Brian wasn't certain that a matching studded belt and arm band really constituted "street clothes" but he just smiled warmly and returned Freddie's embrace. "It was fun, but I'm glad it's over with. Almost over with," he corrected himself. "It's been a crazy few weeks." 

"It's nice, this. Just a few minutes for the two of us." Freddie turned his warm eyes up to catch Brian's gaze. "We don't do it enough." 

_Not since Munich,_ Brian didn't say, but he must have stiffened a little because Freddie reached up to tangle his fingers in Brian's hair. 

"I'm looking forward to our little moment out there," Freddie murmured. "Just you and me and a worldwide audience of our very own." 

Although he wasn't prone to stage fright, Brian felt a little frisson run down his spine. Of course they had Spike backstage to play the synth, but still... 

"I won't let you rush," Brian said after a moment's thought. 

"And I won't let you drag." Freddie reached for the last of his tea and downed it. "We'd better get out there before Ratty has a nervous breakdown." 

Brian tightened his grasp on Freddie, just for a moment, drawing strength from all of the power Freddie exuded even in his quiet, reflective state. Freddie beamed at him as they left the trailer and started the long walk to the backstage area. 

John and Roger were waiting for them, of course, all smiles and thumbs-up gestures. Elton gave Freddie a warm hug when he left the stage, and Brian could almost hear the "good show" and "break a leg" calls from Kiki and George. 

It was time. They stood side by side, lost in concentration. Suddenly Freddie tugged Brian's arm until he leaned over long enough for Freddie to whisper in his ear. 

"You're still my Hendrix," he said, and as Brian felt himself flush with happy pride, Freddie continued. "And I love you, Brimi darling." 

"Love you too, Fred," Brian whispered back, touched and amazed. He followed Freddie out onto the stage and took his seat. There was a mic in front of him for vocals, in case Freddie's tired voice gave out, but he knew there was no need. He pushed the stand aside, looked to his right with his widest, only-for-Freddie smile, and began to play the song they had created.


End file.
